


Tailoring to the Ideal

by awkwardnarturtle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Self-Discovery, Viktor with a K, also im truly sorry for tricking anyone i like to spell it like viktor, and self-image issues, because why not both, it about viktor's hair, there's no 'mid-canon' though, viktor has depression, yakov is basically viktor's dad, yuuri and viktor are super duper in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardnarturtle/pseuds/awkwardnarturtle
Summary: Who is Viktor Nikiforov? Vitya can't seem to figure it out.





	Tailoring to the Ideal

**Author's Note:**

> my take on why viktor might've cut his hair
> 
> please enjoy!

Viktor Nikifrov stared at himself in the mirror. His hair, so blonde that it was silver, tumbled down and tickled the edge of his vanity, where a pair of dull scissors lay.

He ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating the decision he'd contemplated for months now. Yakov would never let him cut his hair. But he wanted to. Maybe he should cut it himself.

Viktor was tired. He'd let his hair grow out ever since his professional skating career started, and it aided his beauty on the ice and off it. But as it had grown longer, it had also grown tiresome. Long hair demanded upkeep. It also demanded a beauty that Viktor no longer felt was like him.

He hadn't been feeling like himself lately, though he had no clear idea of what 'himself' was supposed to feel like. The thrill of winning and skating had since worn down to a just a small ember. He never thought he'd ever think it, but Viktor was bored with skating.

And he had the feeling that his boredom was tied directly to his hair.

Yakov walked into the room just as Viktor picked up the scissors, and a scowl immediately pulled at his entire face. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, and Viktor stared at him blankly through the mirror, playing idly with the scissors in his hands.

"Only thinking, Yakov. No need to worry." He imagined what Yakov's face would be if he took the scissors and chopped his long, beautiful, silvery hair right at the roots. The thought made a smile flicker at his lips.

Yakov watched him, and the scowl deepened. "You thinking is reason enough for me to worry. Once you get an idea into your head, it's near impossible to get it out." Viktor combed the ends of his hair out, watching Yakov's expression. "What are you thinking, Vitya?" Yakov asked, his voice softer, as he eyed the scissors still in Viktor's hands.

Viktor thought for a moment before answering, and he chose his words carefully. "I am tired, Yakov," he started, placing the scissors on the vanity and folding his hands in his lap. "I need something new and exciting so that I can perform like I used to." He paused, cocking his head to the side as a thought occurred to him. "No - I want something new so that I can reach toward a new era of my performing."

His hands were fiddling in his lap, his fingers twisting and pulling at each other. Yakov stared at Viktor, searching for that hint of rebellion that was always present when it came to matters such as this, but it was not as apparent as usual. Whatever it was that Viktor wanted, he must want it bad. "What do you need?" Yakov finally asked, and Viktor straightened, sure that he was being listened to.

"A haircut."

Relaxing, Yakov blew out a breath. Viktor had made it seem so important and dramatic. "Yes, that can happen. I can get an appointment for a trim within a week, so-" He stopped, his breath tripping over itself when he saw the momentary flash of anger in Viktor's cold eyes.

"You misunderstand, Yakov. I want more than a trim." Viktor calmed himself down, taking deep breaths and avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. "I want all of it cut off."

The silence hung heavy in the air while Yakov tried to restrain himself from answering an immediate _"absolutely not."_ Viktor kept twisting at his fingers, and Yakov tried to understand why Viktor would ever want to cut all of his hair off.

"Please, Yakov," Viktor said, his voice uncharacteristically soft and pleading.

Yakov's jaw clenched. "I'll think about it."

The soft vulnerability that Viktor had showed him for what seemed like only half a second immediately disappeared, replaced with something cold and hard. "Please do so, or else I may be tempted to cut it myself."

-

The truth is that Viktor had absolutely no idea if cutting his hair off would result in a cure for boredom. Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn't. As the weeks passed, Viktor stopped caring whether or not it would help him care about winning or skating or whatever it was he was supposed to care about. He just wanted it gone.

But it seemed that when Yakov said "I'll think about it," he really meant _not in a million years._ Viktor should've known.

His long, silvery hair tickled the back of his neck. The feeling made him want to barf. He scooped it up and tied it into a bun, scowling at the face in the mirror.

Who is Viktor Nikiforov?

The man who didn't know anything about Viktor Nikiforov started to cover his vanity mirror with pieces of paper.

"That seems a bit excessive," said a voice from the door to his room, and Not-Viktor turned around to face Yakov.

"Oh, you know how figure skaters are," Not-Viktor said, relishing the cool tone of his voice. "Always excessive. Always dramatic." Not-Viktor tore off another piece of tape and stuck another paper to the mirror.

Yakov watched him for a moment, considering his options. "What do you need, Vitya?"

"To find myself," Vitya said, still not feeling the slightest bit like any sort of Viktor Nikiforov. "How do I even attempt to figure out who I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to care about if I'm always tailoring to other peoples' ideals?" He'd thought this through many times before. He had each word memorized.

"And how do you plan to find yourself?" Yakov asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. Vitya finally turned around, setting down the tape and the paper, leveling his cold gaze on Yakov.

"For starters, a haircut wouldn't hurt."

Yakov considered his options. A pair of barber scissors rested on Viktor's vanity.

"I suppose it wouldn't."

Vitya swelled, his lips pulling up into a barely restricted smile. "Yes," he said, and he could practically already feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"Soon," Yakov promised, which Vitya knew meant _'you win.'_

After Yakov left, though, Vitya still continued covering the mirror with paper. Viktor Nikiforov was still a mystery figure, and looking into a mirror to find clues never helped Vitya before. He might as well not even bother wasting his time.

-

Not-Viktor drifted into his room, his legs carrying him to his vanity. His head was light, and the uncomfortable feeling of hair scratching his neck was joyously absent.

Piece by piece, Not-Viktor tore off the paper taped to his vanity. He closed his eyes before removing the last piece - the center piece. A breath hung in the back of his throat, and he forced himself to breathe properly.

He tore off the last piece.

Not-Viktor Nikiforov stared back at him, his silvery hair falling gracefully over his eyes. It was cropped short on the sides, and Not-Viktor Nikiforov ran his fingertips through the short, silky strands, wondering at the style.

A haircut is not a solution for finding yourself, it seemed. But it did seem to be a solution for boredom.

Not-Viktor Nikiforov stared at himself in the mirror, a smile tugging at his lips as a new routine based off new life started to form in his head.

-

Yuuri Katsuki was glowing in the morning light, his dark eyes reflecting the soft oranges and yellows sifting through the blinds. "You're Viktor Nikiforov," he whispered as if to convince himself that this was real, his fingertips trailing over Not-Viktor's cheeks.

Not-Viktor leaned into Yuuri's touch, closing his eyes. "I don't want to be."

-

"Vitya," Yuuri whined, reaching for his book, which Vitya had stolen. He tried to distract Vitya with a kiss, but Vitya just threw the book and wrapped his arms around Yuuri, pulling him closer.

Yuuri's hands went up to Vitya's cheeks, nails trailing over his skin and creeping into his hair.

Vitya had decided to grow it out after retirement. The scratchy feeling on his neck wasn't nearly as bad as he remembered it to be.

He pulled away from Yuuri, resting his forehead against his. "Do you like it?"

"Of course I do," Yuuri said, his voice hardly louder than a hum as he closed his eyes, letting his thumbs rub absently on Vitya's cheekbones.

Vitya felt a laugh bubble up from deep inside him, but he held it back with a soft smile. "I didn't mean the kiss."

Yuuri's eyes opened. His face reddened. "Oh."

"I meant my hair."

The fingers on Vitya's cheeks traveled to his hair, combing through the soft strands of silver. Yuuri's face was full of thought. "It looks good," he finally said, and Vitya frowned.

"Do you prefer it like this?"

"I don't prefer your hair any sort of particular way," Yuuri admitted with a shrug, brushing Vitya's hair behind his ears. "I just prefer you."

-

Viktor Nikiforov was dead. He had been for a while.

Not-Viktor lived on, but he was just an in between. Who was Viktor supposed to be? What was he supposed to care about? Not-Viktor didn't know. And then Not-Victor died.

Vitya is everything that Victor Nikiforov was, but better. Full of life and love. Full of Yuuri Katsuki.

Vitya never found out what Viktor Nikiforov was supposed to feel like.

But he's really looking forward to figuring out what Viktor Katsuki feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> the purpose of this fic was to portray my thoughts on how hair represents people. for me, cutting my hair was a journey of self-discovery and expression. and a while back i had seen something about viktor cutting his hair for SAD reasons and i don't like viktor being sad and i thought about my own hair cutting experience and how it was a happy occasion. some of this fic mirrors my own experience, some of it doesn't. 
> 
> (for example i would love to have yuuri katsuki on my bed glowing in the early morning light but alas,,)
> 
> thank you again, and see you next time!!


End file.
